


I Like Your Style N'wah

by InterstellarMage



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarMage/pseuds/InterstellarMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faeren finds a whole lot more than loot in a Vivec Canalworks bookshop. They find friends, and a story that few know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The narrator of this story is a nonbinary Bosmer thief Nerevarine OC who is unknowingly avoiding their destiny in style.
> 
> Jim and especially Arantamo's personalities are largely derived from their few unique lines.

Being new to Vivec, I was well into the process of what any serious mer in my profession would be doing when they’re new in town; Casing every storefront and home for potential marks. That’s when I found myself with crude lockpicks in hand, briskly tapping away at the lock of a back door of one Simine Fralinie’s bookstore while he was reorganizing a series of books that I just happened to have accidentally knocked over mere moments ago.  
It was a narrow time window, but I’d worked through much tighter in the past, so even as I glanced to be sure I was out of sight behind a bookshelf, my hands moved with confidence. I briefly thought to myself that this kind of lock was slightly more advanced than the typical affair I’d expect of a canalworks storefront, but the thought was immediately pushed aside. Then came that short sweet pop and series of soft clicks that I live for. I pushed past the door into the backroom. Crates, a potted plant, and, oh shit. Some company. A well appointed redguard had noticed my entrance immediately and appraised me with a benevolent expression on his face. His companion was a wiry Dunmer with a smile on his face that he shares with the redguard like he just heard a crude joke. I can’t emphasize how well dressed they were.

Assuming they were book shipment managers or visiting scholarly writers of the establishment, I think quick on my feet. Speaking first, I went with one of my go-to lines.

"Oh I’m sorry! I was just looking for a lavatory and since the door was open I wandered in here by accident." I smiled apologetically and pretended to bow my head out of embarrassment while I noted two sturdy chests, one expensive looking wardrobe, and a rather domestic area with a table and a single bed. I let that information sit in the back of my mind while I moved as if to leave. "Nice try," said the Dunmer in a raspy voice that had an irreverent tone that did not at all match his apparent age, "But that door was locked. Locked tight, with one of those upper-middle quality locks too. Ain’t that right Jim?" Still looking on benevolently, brown eyes flicked to the lock on the door and then back onto me, his voice gentle and deep. "At least a level 65."

"Hahah what? I don’t know about any of that." I said dumbly. I thickened my most backwater of accents, "How’s it ya’ll know so much about locks anyway?"

"I’m sure your coming here was no mistake. Welcome to the current Thieves Guild headquarters, tadpole. I’m Gentleman Jim Stacey," he says, closing his eyes and resting a hand on the front of his waistcoat. He takes a deep breath and waits for me to reply politely.

I dropped the lockpicks I was still holding out of sight in my left hand. My jaw dropped. I was speaking to THE Gentleman Jim Stacey.

"I’m… I’m honored?" I finally said, still floored. "Your name, what’s your name? That's generally how you respond to introductions." Said the dunmer both helpfully and sarcastically.

I straightened by back and tried to deliver the next line cooly, the only way one can really first say a street name like mine. “They call me Fleet Feet Faeren.”

Red eyes were trained on me hard and the dunmer’s smile grew deliriously wider on his gaunt face and he said, “Hi, I’m Crazy-Legs Arantamo,” as if expecting to savor an awkward moment soon to follow.

The gears in my head were already turning again though, and I snapped back, “Nice name, but I win this round because yours lacks alliterative appeal.”

He snorts and guffaws, glancing to his right while making a motion in the air as if nudging Jim Stacey with his elbow, but deliberately avoids making actual body contact. Crazy-Legs wheezes, “I like your style, N’wah.”

Even Jim cracked a real grin at this point, and looked back at Arantamo, communicating something to one another in silence before speaking, “You pick a lock pretty fast, wood elf. Now, how would you like to join the Thieves Guild?”

"F-fuck yeah I would." I stammered out immediately.


	2. Chapter 2

The back of the bookshop was not the hub of activity most local thieves guild dives were, as I would come to realize when I was better traveled in Vvardenfell. I soon gathered that only until fairly recently Jim Stacey tended to move from small space to small space within the many cantons of Vivec in order to stay under the radar. As a result, even most high ranking guild members only came to his current office to deliver messages and receive orders.

I kept returning though. Maybe because I got my start in Vivec. Maybe because it was the first Thieves Guild roost I ever found. Maybe because once I’d known Crazy-Legs and the Gent himself for a while, it felt like the closest thing to home to me since I came to this province. Crazy-Legs Arantamo though, at first I didn't know why he was always there, at our guildmaster’s side. He was his right hand man, of course, but there was something about the way they worked in unison without even speaking most of the time. The way I often saw one one or both glance at each other as if to sync up their thoughts. It made me feel like they had known each other far longer than a redguard’s lifespan would reasonably allow. Over a series of months, it clicked into place for me though. It became the norm, as did our impromptu get-togethers after I snuck my way into tavern storerooms.

"So after raiding this census and excise office? Oh, and a lighthouse! I’d got barely enough coin for a torch, a lockpick, a probe, and a slightly less moldy smelling outfit," I said between hiccups, "I wound up pawning the package and the directions to this guys house to the trader, each for the drake that the backside of paper was worth for scribblin’ notes. BUT before I packed in for a long meandering walk down whatever road looked good while I found my land legs, I took those last two septims and I BOUGHT MYSELF A FUCKIN’ DRINK,” I slurred the last few words hard into my mug of mazte, while roars of laughter peeled from across the table. “Can’t remember if I decided to ignore the directions to Balmora or I just forgot them. All I know is that’s how I came to Vivec.”

Once a round of giggles died down, the dunmer spoke up, “Aw you haven’t heard anything yet!” said Crazy-Legs. “When I met Jim, he was so wet behind the ears his voice must have broken a month before.” The Gent cut in here, pointing at Arantamo’s face with his arm hitched around the mer’s shoulder. “And this dunmer old coot only had HALF as many lines on this teal face of his!”

Legs was too wasted to truly let the severity of this burn sink in and he barreled on, “I was working out of Caldera and the boss in the chapter of the guild that existed there at the time had me waiting up at a crossroads to az.. assis… help along the getaway of a newbie who said he’d go and sneak into the mining company ledger office that night. So there I am at this road side, when I see a young Jim Stacey saunter up the road with NOBODY in pursuit after all, holding a bag full of loot, wearing, guess what? Guesss. Fuckall. SLATHERED IN SHALK RESIN THAT HE USED TO SLIP THROUGH THE CRACKED WINDOW OF THE OFFICE.”

We all roared even harder at that one and then finally Jim said in all seriousness, “Guess what he said to me EVEN THEN though, Fleet.” I looked over and even Arantamo seemed too blitzed to remember specifically himself. “What?” I asked. Jim desperately tried to hold in his laughter, whispering, “I like your style, N’wah,” and busted out laughing, flopping backward onto the bed behind the stool he had perched himself on, folding his arms tightly across his stomach with a groan.

Crazy-Legs seemed to forget I was there, or at least feel so accustomed to my presence that he didn't think it strange to chortle and also fall back onto the bed beside Jim, where their hands met and fingers locked.


	3. Chapter 3

Between two Bal Molagmer missions I stopped by the book store to give an update and say hello. Simine Fralinie and Crazy Legs both weren't in and it felt a little unsettling to see even such a small storefront so vacant. I walked into the back room, almost afraid to disturb the silence until I spotted Jim Stacey sitting slightly slumped at the table. “You alright, boss?” I say, sliding in and taking a seat across from him. “Don’t call me boss, Faeren. One of these days, when you’re ready, you’re going to be the guild master.”

I cut him off “Yeah, yeah, most promising young thief you've met in a lifetime, destined for greater things, I've heard you gloat about your protege before.” I say, equal parts pride and blowing him off. ”But you look pale and you still haven’t answered my question.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m just working off a bad scrib jelly sandwich.”

"Right," I replied smartly, immediately sensing something was being with-held from me. Seeing him in such an ill state, I decided it best not to waste my breath with official business and have to repeat myself later. I sighed and stood up. "I hope you feel better, Jim. I’ll get back to you after I’m done stealing from the rich and giving to the poor." I said sarcastically, despite the fact we both knew exactly how passionate I felt about my work. I got to the door and turned the knob just in time to see Arantamo walk in holding a paper bag with the words "calcinated wickwheat and large kwama egg extracts." scrawled on it hastily. It had to have been from the apothecary just across the way in the canalworks, because Crazy Legs dropped the arm carrying the medicine to his side nonchalantly and only nodded a greeting as he shuffled past me.

The next time I was in Balmora I visited a good alchemist friend of mine who I usually visit for the purposes of pawning off ill-begotten moon sugar. She was a little surprised to see me make a serious inquiry about the properties of certain ingredients. I happened to be a low level member of the Mages’ guild in good standing, but mostly only because I learned a few good destructive spells in lieu of ever learning how to hold a weapon. Not to mention the fact that Guild guides are also an indispensable utility when you find yourself transporting liberated goods as I often find myself doing.

Still, she told me what I wanted to hear. Such common ingredients were sure to be weak, and the only like qualities of wickwheat and large kwama eggs would probably be as a crude paralyzant. A numbing agent. A pain reliever.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim told me he was going on holiday soon, but wasn’t very specific. I might have normally questioned this further but I think that the gentleman deliberately planned it for me to have been very busy while he made his travel preparations and left Vvardenfell. By the time I had things in order to truly take on the mantle of being the functional head of the Thieves Guild in more than just name, he was just gone.

The room was cold and Crazy Legs still idled there alone every time I came back. His self presentation, even the way his shirt collars lay crumpled, spoke of a lack of attention to details that had once been routinely ministered to. I didn't mind keeping him company but I wasn't sure what to think of this.

"Hey Legs, did the Gent ever say when he was coming back?" I finally asked him one day, "I mean I know I’m the guildmaster and all but, I was hoping to still see him around. I miss the guy." Arantamo opened his mouth as if to speak and froze. His gaze swayed away from mine   
pleadingly but his words were gruff. “Let’s not talk about Jim.” His shoulders folded in, and we sat quietly for what felt like a long time before I spoke plainly.

"Gent’s dying isn’t he?" the Dunmer’s shoulders trembled and I felt terrible.

"He went to say goodbye to his folks in Hammerfell," Crazy-Legs finally said, his voice was quiet and reverent, and nothing like how I’d ever heard it before. "He’s got to be only about fifty," was all I could think to say.

"When Jim was made the new Master Thief, the Camona Tong found a way to poison him. He survived the fever and illness but it damaged the way his stomach lining grows in a way that no healer can fix," his voice was awful, and more like a crow than it even usually was, "He’s been deteriorating the last few decades since."

I was silent, and stunned. “So that’s why Jim isn't coming back. He wanted to have a traditional Hammerfel funeral and have a priest lay Arkay’s Law on his body.”

That made a lot of sense, a lot of non-dunmer weren't so comfortable with the idea of having their souls drafted into the ghostgate or any number of other borderline acts of necromancy that went down in Morrowind. Crazy-Legs wasn't even trying to hide the tears rolling gently down his face anymore, “I knew I was going to have to say goodbye to him one day. I just never thought it would be so soon.”

I pulled his forehead to mine and tried my best to sound reassuring, “Crazy Legs, You've already taught me everything you can about guild administration. You don’t need to stay here to keep an eye on me. You should go be with the Gent.”

Arantamo sniffed, gaining some small amount of composure. “I would if I could Fleet. I’m just not exactly welcome there at the moment. Jim needs to make things right with his parents before they’ll tolerate me.”

I let the pain of that statement sink into my chest for a beat, and then I asked, “So what are you going to do?”

"When Jim sends me a letter, I’m taking the next boat to the mainland. I’m going to be with him again while he can still be with me. I don’t know what I’m going to do after that," He pauses, distant, before his thoughts catch up with his mouth. "But when I’m a feeble old mer in the next century, When nobody in his scrib sucking family will have been alive to remember me, I’m going to take a get a cart to Hammerfel. I’m going to hobble into their family tomb and seal it behind me." His red eyes, normally shifting slyly and evasively, met mine. “Then I’m going to be with Jim again. Then I’m going to stay with Jim.”


	5. Epilogue Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Softening the blow just a little bit...

"Legs…" Jim murmured. "My head’s not swimming as much…" Arantamo pressed his hand to the redguard’s head and found it was true that he was feeling a lot closer to normal temperature now. He smiled down at him, only a little damp and lying limply on he bed.

"Jim, I think your fever’s breaking. I’m so fucking glad. You had me really worried the past few days," said Crazy Legs, kneeling at his bedside.

The redguard slid a hand outward and wrapped it around one of the dunmers'. “Couldn't have made it without you.”

Crazy Legs smiled and dropped his head where he could hear Jim Stacey’s heart beating though his chest, and lightly rested it there. ”I've never seen you so sentimental before, but I can honestly get used to this,” said Jim, bringing his other hand atop Crazy-leg’s head, snaking fingers through his unruly hair.

"Shut up you fool," he replied, muffled against the cravat that, ever the Gentleman, Jim Stacey insisted on wearing even while laying on what they had once feared might be his deathbed only days before.

Jim hummed a laugh and then teased him in a solid impression of his companion’s voice, “What can I say N’wah? I like your style.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, my friends.


End file.
